The Devil's Game
by NushiKasai
Summary: Marik was a dangerous mistake. Anzu knew that. She also knew that, even after five years, he would not stop until she was back in his grasp. Manipulashipping


**Daring ideas are like chess men moved forward. They may be beaten, but they may start a winning game.**

___Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

* * *

I remember that it snowed on the day he waltzed back into my life.

No, perhaps waltzed isn't the right word. It sounds far too peaceful to accurately describe him. Waltzed…Returned…Invaded. Yes, that seems better.

He invaded my life.

I'd always thought that he'd be out of it forever; that I was the one person who would evade his grasp.

I suppose I was lying to myself all that time. The truth threw itself at my face as I opened the door in the middle of winter and was greeted with his piercing lavender stare.

It had taken me a moment to fully understand what was happening, and I felt numb inside. The first wave of despair crept over my body as I saw his eyes narrow so that his shining pupils were all that could be seen through his dark kohl eyeliner and his lips curl into his famous and chillingly triumphant smirk.

"Hello, Anzu."

* * *

As I stare back at him, a freezing effect creeping upwards through my body, I cannot help but notice how unchanged he looks. It is though time has ignored his body's due changes; instead, his Egyptian-tanned skin is line-free and his physique is still freakishly slender despite his obvious strength and muscle.

A blush rises to my cheeks as I recall how I found his muscles absolutely drool-worthy back when I was a fan-girl teenager that would throw myself at anything remotely attractive. If only I had listened to my mother when she had told me that shallowness would only serve to put me in situations best avoided.

Like right now.

It seems as though I have three options.

Slam the door in his face, lock every opening to the house and pray that he'll leave.

Of course, that's ridiculous; something as meagre as a wall could not possibly hold him back, but I prefer to think of it as desperate (and useless) method.

Throw myself into his arms and beg for forgiveness.

Putting aside the fact that this would shatter every inch of pride that I possess, I know that sucking up to him will not protect me when he discovers how much I have kept hidden.

Keep him distracted until an opportunity to contact Yugi and the others arises.

This seems to be my best bet. Though he will probably have already anticipated this, I'm sure that there is something he will have forgotten. Despite being a master manipulator and planner, I know him; in his excitement to confront me, he will have over-looked something. And his fault may save my life, if only I can find it.

I raise my head and meet his gaze; an expression of defiance undoubtedly painted over my face. He won't like that, I know, but I've never been good at hiding my emotions, so I cannot prevent it.

"Why are you here, Marik?" I ask, after a good few seconds of finding the confidence to speak without stuttering in fear. The question is redundant; I, of course, already know why he is here, but I must keep him talking.

He chuckles, but the sound does not spark any feelings of mirth inside of me. Only terror. He, on the other hand, is amused, and I fear that he already knows what I am attempting to do.

"Now, now, Anzu," he tuts like a mother cooing gently to a sheepishly blushing child, "You know fully well why I am here." His eyes open slightly and he locks me in a gaze as his expression turns darker. "I don't exactly appreciate it when my belongings go missing."

I stiffen at the obvious reference to myself trying to escape him, but I quickly recover through the aid of the fury that over-takes me.

"I don't exactly appreciate being labelled as a belonging," I reply bitterly through my clenched teeth.

A smirk flitters over his lips and I hate that my defiance is now giving him entertainment. It was supposed to make him feel as angry as I do. He chuckles slightly to himself once more, but the sound is mocking, and I feel nausea roll around in my stomach from it.

"This is what I like about you, Anzu," Marik says in a velvet voice, and I flinch as he steps forward. He advances towards me until only a ruler could fit between us, but I refuse to move. I will not show weakness to him. He leans into my ear and I bite back a gasp of surprise as he breathes swiftly but sensuously onto my earlobe. "Such fire."

"Move back," I grate forcibly through my stiff jaw, holding back insults and words of spite that would only serve to anger him and further endanger my wellbeing.

He completely ignores my order, and instead raises a hand to take a strand of my chocolate hair in between his pianist-like fingers. The move would appear to be a romantic gesture, but I know that it is a simply a show of ownership; like a merchant observing his own wares.

"I value you for your intelligence," he continues amiably, as though he were discussing the weather, and an uncharacteristically tender smile pulls at his lips, "I value you for your courage, your beauty…and your intelligence."

I frown, knowing that this conversation is going down a grim path for me. He is complimenting me, which is something he only does when he is in a particularly psychotic mood.

"_Move back," _I repeat sharply, wanting to put as much space between us as possible before his psychotic desires reach their vicious climax.

Yet again, however, he ignores me, and twirls my hair in his hand; his fingers working like a water-wheel as they circle and pick up more and more of my dark locks until he has a handful as large as a thick plate.

"I know you're smart," Marik whispers gently, that unnerving smile still gracing his lips. All of a sudden, he twists his handful of my hair painfully, and I immediately bend to his will as I feel the small strands straining against the unexpected pressure. He presses my face into his neck and loosens his grip slightly; giving me enough freedom to relax, but not enough to escape. "I thought you were smarter than _this_, Anzu."

I breathe heavily and fight to hold back a whimper. He certainly hasn't changed. Not at all; he is still the same psychotic self that he has always been. I have been deluding myself; thinking that he would simply let me be.

"Let me go," I softly say, and I begrudgingly realise that it sounds like a request. Of course he doesn't grant it. I knew that he wouldn't. He loves power, and once he has it, he will never let it go willingly.

"Did you really think that you could escape me?" He rhetorically asked me. He already knew the answer; he knew that I was running with the knowledge that he would one day find me. He knew that I well aware of what he was capable of. "Silly girl. You should be thankful that you are one of a kind."

Like a dog with its hackles raised, I glare at his Adam's apple that vibrates as he talks and I imagine hissing violently at him…just to try and make him as scared as I am.

Unfortunately, when you're as high up as he is, you're not scared of much.

"I left you for a reason," I quietly tell him, praying that I can procrastinate, or make him so angry that he will get distracted and clumsy. "Given the opportunity, you should know that I will do it again."

He pauses for a moment, and I briefly allow myself to hope that I have struck a chord inside him, but he simply begins to use the tips of his fingers to stroke my scalp in what some what consider a comforting manner. I, however, see that it is him resuming his power playing game over me once more.

"That's why I will personally see to it that you will never be granted that opportunity," he replies to my statement, and my eyes widen at the realisation that he is serious. He won't be killing me- no, he's far too possessive for that- but I actually thought he might just try to ruin my life and then leave me as a taste of my own medicine.

My head is released, and I stagger off to the side to put some distance between us. I raise my eyes to meet his, and I am sickened to see the sadistic pleasure he is finding from my discovery of my life's grim prospects. I freeze and press my own fingers to my scalp; vainly trying to rub away his touch. He watches with amusement, and allows me distance from him as he knows that it won't matter how far away I am; I'm still well within his reach.

"As you can see, my dear Anzu," Marik gloatingly drawls, "I pursued you for a reason."

"And what is that?" I mutter half to myself, as I don't want to hear the answer from him, as it will only be something that will cause me misery.

I hear more than see him shift, and I suddenly feel his weight press me against the house's wall. My fingertips are pressed against the rough edges of the peeling white paint, and from habit and distraction, I grip onto the edge of a brick and wish that I can pull it out and wield it as a weapon. Not that I'd have any chance of overpowering the Egyptian physically.

"I'm here," he whispers slowly into my ear, and I repress a violent shiver as I feel his warm breath brush against the sensitive hairs of my earlobe, "To take back what is mine…and to show her that she won't be getting away from me again."

_How subtle_, I dryly think to myself despite the dire situation I'm in. However, reality is quick to set in, and I realise that I must get away.

Now.

Even though it's useless; he won't let me run. Plus, I'm not the only one I need to worry about.

"Hello!"

My eyes widen, and my head whips up at the soft voice that reaches both me and my antagonising enemy. Knowing what will happen soon, I begin to viciously struggle like I have never struggled before in the arms of the Egyptian. My plan works for a moment, and the blonde is distracted as he doubles his efforts to restrain me, and during this time I pray to whatever godly being controls my life that _he_ will run.

But _he_ doesn't. And Marik sees what I have been hiding from him.

He sees the spitting image of himself rushing down the hallway to the door where we stand.

I believe it had been my best achievement; hiding the young child from his father. Despite being my biggest mistake; he was the greatest gift anyone could have given me. But I knew that if Marik were to ever learn of his existence, then we would both be in grave danger.

And now I had failed. Now the damned man knew.

Shock registers on his face; his eyes widen into an expression that I would have once considered adorable, but now I am rather busy wallowing in my own self-pity and guilt. His grip becomes relaxed, but I daren't move, as I know he wouldn't hesitate to re-capture me in his arms if it meant that I would be rendered useless.

As the boy stops at the front door, and takes in the scene, I try to catch his gaze, but his eyes are entirely focused on our 'visitor'. A smile graces his face; a welcoming and eager-for-new-friends smile, and I curse how trusting he is. He doesn't understand what Marik is doing to me- in fact, he might think us to be hugging- and I know the Egyptian will take full advantage of this.

I believe the term 'stranger danger' comes into play here.

Marik takes his stare off of the young boy and gives me a sideways glance; a question on his face- one that I know cannot be lied to in reply. The truth is far too obvious.

"Mine...?" He murmurs at me, and I assume that my expression is all he needs for his answer. He immediately releases me, and staggers slightly over to his son, who patiently and openly waits for acknowledgement on the threshold of the house. "Hello, there," the Egyptian man speaks in a surprisingly tender voice; one that I have only ever heard him use once before.

"Hi," the boy blushes slightly at being spoken to so nicely by the tall, imposing man, "Um, who're you?"  
A smile flitters across the Egyptian's face, and I watch in despair as he kneels down to my son's level and raises a tanned hand to ruffle the platinum-blonde locks of his child.

"Well, this changes things," he mutters to himself. He turns to the young boy. "My name is Marik," he says gently, chuckling as the boy shakes his head with flaming cheeks after his hair has been messed with. His vanity is something I use to fun-tease him about, but it angers me to know that the Egyptian now knows such a personal thing about my son. "What's yours?"

I freeze at the question, and immediately regret my initial defiance of Marik five years ago. Why did I do it? I knew that one day he would return, and I would have to face his music, so why did I act so stupidly?

Simple: I was foolish enough to hope.

"It's nice to meet you!" I hear my son reply; positively beaming at the kind person he speaks to, "My name is"-

"Don't!" I quickly interrupt, knowing that I am practically giving myself away from trying to prevent the inevitable.

Marik tenses, aware that something is amiss, and I repress a shudder as he stands and turns to me; a chilling smiling on his face. The warning in his expression is entirely clear, and I know that I will not resist him for long. I'm too weak.

"What's his name, Anzu dear?" He basically grates the words from his teeth, and I feel a slow shiver crawl its way down my spine. Why did he have to be so scary?!

I remain silent, slowly sealing my fate further. I know I am making things worse for myself, but I just…can't.

"What's his name, Anzu?' Marik repeats, the smile gone from his lips and his demeanour entirely looming and threatening.

I hold the silence, but I can sense the straining tension in the air. I know that I will break it soon- I'm far too weak to do anything else.

Every trace of humour has now vanished from his face, and he stands with an imposing manner; stepping in front of and ignoring the presence of my son, who looks put out with the lack of attention he is getting.

"You'd best tell me his name, you insolent woman!" Marik hisses vehemently, and I cringe at the tone he uses to me; it reminds me of his darker half. "If you don't, I might be led to assume that the boy isn't even mine…who knows what could happen then."

I stiffen, and my head flies up to meet the Egyptian's gaze. It's completely obvious the child is Marik's, but as I see the cruel and determined lavender pupils, I realise that he is completely serious. He would threaten and hurt his own child.

"You're a lunatic," I mutter, but my heart is not fully in it. To express more defiance would be foolish at this strained time.

"His name!" Marik yells viciously at me, taking a warning step to my child, who stands there with his bright smile still on his face- he clearly doesn't understand what is happening. I inhale quickly and go to move towards them, but the Egyptian freezes me with his icy glare.

"Fine," I murmur, turning my head away to shield my gaze from the inevitably furious reaction. "Atem. His name is Atem."

Everything is silent, but it is the calm before the storm- this is obvious to me. I sneak a peek at the Egyptian, and he is completely still; his eyes more focused on me than on his son, who is pouting at the lack of laughter around him.

"You," Marik finally breaks the silence, and I flinch at the dark tone his voice holds, "You dare…to name him after that man?" With a shock, I realise that I am now panting quietly from fear, and the cold air around me creates a contrasting cloud of white surround me as I exhale. I cannot be like this! Not in front of Atem; he will only suffer. "You named my own child after _him_?!"  
"He's not!" I burst out, shocking all present with my suddenly shrill voice. I will not allow the Egyptian to take over my life like this. "He's not your child! I made sure of that."

Yet again, a tense silence overtakes us, and I know that I will suffer for my words, but I still cannot bring myself to regret my defiance of him. It is not fair for him to get what he wants when his desire infringes on the rights of both me and my son.

He tilts his head at me with an expression I could almost call curiosity on his face, and repress a shiver as I dream up a million and one psychotic things the man could do for revenge. He, however, only turns back to my son, who perks up immediately at the returned attention.

"Listen, Atem," Marik's words are as sweet as sugar, but his expression to me is one of planning. This does not bode well for me. "Your mother has been…very bad."

"Mommy's been naughty?" Atem looks crestfallen, as I know that I am an idol of good behaviour in his eyes.

Marik nods solemnly, an almost-pout on his lips. It's absolutely revolting to see; him trying to manipulate my son.

"That's right," he replies, as though he is sad to say it. I know, however, that he is thrilled with how the boy is responding to him. "Now, what happens to you when you are naughty?"  
I frown in confusion as I consider what Marik might be playing. Whatever it is, I know that it will not bode well for me.

"I have to sit in the Naughty Corner," Atem mumbles while blushing in embarrassment, as he is red after revealing to such a nice stranger that he misbehaves.

"Is that so?" the Egyptian replies in interest, and as he continues speaking, he casts me a snide glare. "I suppose it's only fair that the same should happen to your mother as well, right?"  
I stiffen, and wonder how he plans to twist the 'Naughty Corner' punishment to be more suitable for his sadistic tendencies.

"But what has Mummy done wrong?" Atem tries to pry the answer of the Egyptian, but I quickly intervene before he is manipulated further.

"Atem, did you see the present I left for you on the kitchen table?" I interject swiftly, stepping forward over the step out the front of the entrance door to where my son stands. I push forward and put Marik behind me as I address the young boy, who now has completely forgotten his mother's 'misbehaviour' at the mention of a gift. "Why don't you go and play with that while this man and I have a nice chat."

"A present?" Atem repeated with glee, and turned to go and find his new toy from the local store. To keep up the pretence of normality, I quickly stopped him.

"What do you say?" I sternly ask him in a very parental voice. Despite the situation, I conceal a smile as I see my son's ears go red at being reprimanded. Like a thief caught red-handed, he slowly turns around.

"Thank you, Mummy," he grins sheepishly as I give him a tender smile, and he rushes off into the house to find his toy.

Once I see that he is safely away from 'prying' eyes, I turn around to face Marik, who has been watching my motherly exchange with interest. He catches my stare, and a smirk graces his features.

"Such a good mother," he says to me, and I narrow my eyes as I wonder if he truly meant that, or whether he was just mocking me.

"No," I reply quickly; my mind ticking to find a suitable answer to spite him with, "A good mother is able to protect their child from danger."

The Egyptian doesn't need three guesses to figure out what I was implying.

"Let's see about that Naughty Corner, hm?" Marik rhetorically asks me, and he motions for me to follow him into the house.

What with my increased defiance, I expected a glare- I even thought he might lash out at me- but instead, he smiles.

That is even more unnerving.

* * *

He's some sort of crazed freak.

This is what I think as I stand in the 'Corner' Marik has constructed using papery-tape and the two walls of the loungeroom. My 'punishment' consists of a sitting inside a small triangle that has been crudely created by joined tape at the two walls. It's squashy, but it's certainly not as painful as I expected.

Marik is lounging over on the creamy sofa, his legs resting up upon the coffee table. He has removed his winter jacket and shoes; now he is dressed in his long dark jeans and black sweater. He's even gone so far as to light up the fire and retrieve the mail.

All in all, he's made himself outrageously at home.

"_Dear Anzu_," he flippantly reads from my letters, "_Mai and Jounouchi have finally gotten engaged, Serenity and Duke are trying to have a baby (Jounouchi is demanding that it be named after him!) and Mokuba is releasing the Duel Monster cards he designed later this year. We're planning on meeting up just before Christmas, and we'd love to see you there! Write back soon, okay? Missing you heaps, Yuugi.' _Seriously, Japanese is his first language, and I can write Kanji better than him!"  
This has been going on for a while. He read through my bills first, word for word. My only pleasure was that he struggled slightly with wording the large numbers.

Ever since I escaped five years ago, I've been financially supported by Seto Kaiba, who owed me a debt after I got his brother out of a tight spot. He's my only hope at the moment; if I don't send him the latest tech drawings from the local designer (my end of the bargain), he might check up on me and see my dilemma.

If there's anyone who can get me out of this, it's Kaiba.

"_To Miss Mazaki_," Oh, god, he's still going. This time, it's from Atem's school. "_Your child, Atem Mazaki, has not been getting on well with his fellow classmates. To arrange a meeting, please call this number_- Not even going to try and decode that number_- and we can discuss some methods to help him enjoy his school life. Kind regards, Himuro Niwa_." Really, Anzu? He's looks as though he's barely started school and he's already pushing people around!"

I know for a fact that it's the complete opposite. In truth, Atem has always reminded me of Ryou Bakura; he is the type of child who is too polite for his own good, and would never stand up for himself if it meant saying something bad against someone else. I cannot help but wonder how Marik will react when he realises this.

Finally, the Egyptian has read through all of my mail. Tossing the torn envelopes onto the coffee table, he languidly stretches with his upper torso and collapses back onto the couch.

"I think we'll have a family dinner tonight," he announces as he begins to examine his freakishly good nails, "We'll go out somewhere nice and get to know each other a bit better." He tosses his platinum blonde locks over his shoulder as he turns to face me. "You can introduce me to our son…Hm, we should also see about getting his name changed."

God, he goes on and on!

Still, he's distracted. As he turns back around, I slowly creep to the edge of the 'Corner' and remove my shoes- they'll create too much noise if I have to move quickly. And I will; I'll have to take Atem and then somehow get to the front door whilst evading the Egyptian.

I know that it's illogical, but I am rather desperate. The 'Naughty Corner' is just a very mild entrée for the future punishments due for leaving the Egyptian man.

My socked feet toe the edge of the tape, and I quickly check to make sure that the man is still babbling away as I lift my right foot to make a run for it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the sudden sharp remark makes me freeze, and I cast a glance over to the sofa to see Marik leaning against the arm of the left side; his clear lavender eyes watching me like a hawk.

My plan ruined, I shift back to where the two walls meet, and place my weight there. At my apparent defeat, a self-satisfied smile graces the Egyptian's lips, and a wave of fury rushes over me, and I suddenly wish to just do something that will wipe that look off of his face. With a flash, I stop all of those thoughts, however, as I remember that Atem will suffer for anything defiant I do.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" I, in exasperation, call over to the tanned man who sits regally over in _my_ comfortable sofa.

"That's simple," he smoothly replies, now using his enclosed fist to support his upper neck, "I'm punishing you for being bad."

In anger, I clench my hands and rise back to my full height. I then try to glare at his head so hard that it will shrivel or something, but that fails, and only serves to amuse my tormentor.

"I'm not a child!" I shrilly cry, my voice breaking slightly as my vocal chords succumb to the sudden pressure expected of them.

"Then stop acting like one," he replies dismissively, and I nearly scream in frustration at his alarmingly good mood. I remember from before that he always acted like an arrogant prick whenever he got his way.

I never liked it, but I always ignored it.

"I'm sorry; running for my life is now considered childish?" I retort angrily, tempted to cross the line and slap him painfully across the cheek. I don't do that because he will retaliate violently.

Besides, it will only cause Atem more unnecessary pain.

"No," he tutted like a patient teacher, "Taking toys from other people is considered childish."

I scoff to myself in fury, and my eyes widen in my infamous death glare, but the Egyptian isn't even facing me anymore, so he cannot bear witness to my ire. Instead, I can only wait until my fuel runs out, and I am reduced to simply staring at his back.

"Is that all we are to you?" I ask finally, pathetically shaking my head. "Toys?"

Tired now, my legs fall out from underneath me, and I kneel on the floor. Hearing the sudden bang from my landing, the Egyptian turns back around to face me, and after he realises that there is nothing to be concerned about, I watch as he considers my earlier question with a tilt of his head.

"No…Perhaps 'toys' was the wrong word," Marik muses to himself. With a snap of his finger, he smiles at me, "I prefer 'controlled belongings.'"

"Controlled belongings"?!" I repeat incredulously, rising once more so that I can confront him on a level that I am comfortable with. Unfortunately, he is also getting to his feet and is now moving towards the door. Determined to have the last words, I stamp my foot like a storming child and scream out: "_You do not control me!"_

He pauses in his path to the hallway, and I pray that I have struck a chord within him. He turns around with a confident smile on his face that unnerves me.

"Then why are you still in the corner?" Marik asks as he leaves the room.

He doesn't require my answer-he knows it already. He's just making it clear that a Millennium Rod isn't needed to control me.

Once Atem is wrapped around his finger, so am I.

* * *

**I obviously don't own Yugioh.**

**Okay, this has been something that has been in my head for absolutely ages! It has caused my Writer's Block from other stories and it has been the bane of my life for the past few months. So here it is: Out of my head and on FF :)**

**I've wanted to write a Manipulashipping story for so long, but I've just never found the right inspiration. So suddenly, a few months ago, BOOM! there it was. But, I had other stuff to do, and I just never got around to it. Until this week. I probably should have been doing homework, but this was just annoying me. **

**I originally intended this to be a one-shot, and it might still remain a one-shot if I don't get enough feedback or if people want me to leave it there. I have lots of ideas for a story, but I need your opinion and thoughts to bust that out. **

**So please, review and you can get more. Or not more, if that's what you would prefer. I tend to wait until I get 10 reviews before I update/continue story. **


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